It’s that time of year when the idea of braising something starts to lose its luster. After months of slow-cooking, roasting, and eating delightfully sludgy, but primarily brown, beige, dusty, or pale orange colored foods, they begin to take their toll both on my palate and spirit. It’s also around this time that I start yearning for crunchy green things, longer, lighter days, and the promise of warmer weather, where sitting outside might actually be an option.
There is a dance I have in the kitchen for every season, but spring is when I find my rhythm. The food I want to make becomes less complicated. The ingredients can almost do the work themselves. My urge to host lavish lunches becomes renewed. Instead of huddling up in front of a fire with bowls in hand, I start thinking of long tables, breezy weather, and crisp glasses of wine.
My newest cookbook, Better at Home, is, in many ways, a love letter to meals with my friends. Don’t get me wrong, I love going out for dinner. There is nothing better than sidling up to a bar, ordering an ice-cold martini, crab cocktail, and a side of fries, and having someone make it all for you. But my life looks very different now than it did living in New York City in my 20s and 30s, staying out till the wee hours. These days, we’re eating at our house or friends’ homes in the Hudson Valley, and then in the summer months, I’m cooking from a very rural part of Nova Scotia, and I couldn’t be happier.
In spring, a Sunday afternoon starts something like this. Shrimp butter is set out on a vintage plate for people to snack on and served with snappy radishes, snap peas, thinly sliced fennel, and very good bread. A platter of shaved asparagus is gently tossed with nutty Comté, topped with crispy prosciutto and toasted almonds, alongside a slowly roasted salmon rubbed with harissa and brown sugar. For something sweet, seeded drop biscuits with freshly whipped cream and strawberries. Everything is always served family style to keep things convivial.
To pour, I’d choose one or two of the many gorgeous Chardonnays from 00 Wines out of the Willamette Valley that drink exactly like a white Burgundy. For non-imbibing friends, I’d have a bottle of the recently launched Mother Root from the UK, close at hand to mix with soda water and a citrus wedge. As of late, I can’t get enough of either of these beverages.
The table itself does not require a florist on retainer. Look for vessels, not vases. I fill whatever I have—be it ceramic pitchers, wide-mouthed glass jars, or vintage etched tumblers—with single-variety blooms such as ranunculus, anemones, or bunches of sweet peas. No real arrangements, just some flowers in water left to sit elegantly unfussed. This spring, I’m using undyed natural linen layered with napkins in rose, gold, and warm terracotta, colors that look like they’ve been washed a hundred times and only improved, just as I hope the weather will soon be too. We’re almost there.
Spicy Shrimp Butter
Serves 6 to 8
Photo: Silver und Seck
